


Everybody's waiting for the next surprise

by it_was_so_human



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 05:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_was_so_human/pseuds/it_was_so_human
Summary: Her family was falling apart and Sansa can’t fix it and she can’t force pumpkins down their throats no matter how hard she tries.





	Everybody's waiting for the next surprise

utumn was undeniably Sansa Stark’s season. There was just _something_ about the crisp clean air and excitement that came with Halloween and the changing leaves. 

(Leaves that were a perfect match for her auburn hair.)

((And autumn trees paired with a cute sweaters and killer boots? It made for a _stellar_ Instagram post.))

But even though she was home now, it just didn’t feel right. October was supposed to be _cold_ and instead it was currently a balmy 67 degrees which made little to no sense (expect for you know, climate change.)

At this rate, they would never have a chilly autumn. And who knows what winter would be like? 

Sansa _needed_ the kind of cold that you feel in your very bones to make everything feel real.   _Right._

She sighed deeply. The cold would make things feel right, even though nothing has been right in quite some time.

Sansa just wanted to be a little girl again, sniffing that her dad made wear her North Face parka over her sparkly princess costume while trick or treating. Tiara on her head, waddling down the sidewalk on a chilly autumn (early) evening.  

She had transferred back north this year for her sophomore year. Going to college in the south was a bad idea. As cute as dressing up for tailgates sounded in theory, she was a northern girl and belonged up north. Besides, Michigan was in her blood, and she had basically broken faith with the Starks when she went elsewhere. That spot was where her parents went on their first date, around the corner was Robb’s fraternity, and that’s where Bran twisted his ankle after a football game.

She just _belonged_ here. (Go Wolverines!)

And Jon was here too, a senior now and had been so very good about taking her under his wing. From well-timed coffee breaks to walking her home from the library at night to taking her to parties without acting ridiculously protective. 

(Jon was… _who_ Jon was… is complicated. His mother was her father’s childhood family friend. He had adored her. Lyanna had Jon very young and she died when Jon was still a toddler. Raised by his Uncle Mormont, a stern former army commander, it was natural Jon was drawn to the chaos and warmth of the Stark home. He was also conveniently her brother Robb’s best friend.

She remembered ugly whispers when she was young that Ned was Jon’s father. Ned had always treated Jon like a son and they did have similar coloring. And despite there being no truth to the gossip, Jon was always a point of contention between her parents. Maybe that’s why Sansa never really warmed to Jon, she was always Catelyn’s little shadow. 

Besides, he would rather run around with Robb and Arya. He never had time for playing dress up with her. But now that they’re older, she can appreciate his brand of thoughtful seriousness.)

((And this lovely smile he would send her way every now and then that made her just  _feel_.))  

There was another reason it felt right coming back north. Since her father passed away last spring, she wanted to be closer to home. Closer to her family.

Her mother dealt with the grief over losing the love of her life by throwing herself into helping Robb succeed at the family business.

Robb who was overworked and looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders at 24. Stressed and exhausted after taking over his father’s role. 

But there was still Arya, Bran, and Rickon and they needed her and she wanted to be there for them. Her heart was _aching_ to be there.

Halloween was their dad’s warm up for the holiday season. They were one of _those_ families. Respected in the boardroom, Eddard Stark however was a family man first and foremost. What’s the point of so many kids if you don’t have matching holiday sweaters, her father would simply shrug. 

Her parents went all out for the holidays. The Thanksgiving turkey was comically huge, the Christmas tree towering, the lights outside the house absolutely blinding, the Easter eggs intricately decorated.

She had planned to get the family to their favorite farm last weekend, they could pretend to get lost in the hay maze and mildly spooked by the middling haunted barn. Go to the orchard and pick apples and drink warm apple cider with a sprinkle of cinnamon and buy the boys apple cinnamon donuts and watch them get the powdered sugar all over their faces.

But the farm was closed because the world was against Sansa Stark, and when she finally found a suitable replacement pumpkin patch everyone was busy.

But now it was the weekend before Halloween and she just _knew_ her plan was going to be great. This weekend, they were all hers. Her mom and Robb were going to be holed up in the offices of Stark Enterprises but they boys would be home and she was so sure she could convince Arya to hang out as well.

She readied herself for the hour-long drive home, a trunk packed with pumpkins and carving supplies and freshly baked Halloween-themed treats to eat while watching a silly scary movie (and she even used real milk and eggs and butter despite being a vegan herself because she loved her family and was a terrible phony but whatever).

The weather was barely nippy when she left her dorm, but she pulled on a soft rust-colored seater and grabbed a scarf anyways. She smiled in the mirror, feeling seasonally appropriate and ready. Her family would be together and she could already feel a warm glow go through her.  

A warm glow that turned to bitter ash when she arrived at the Stark family home.

Arya was running around getting ready for a costume party and Bran shrugged her off claiming that he had to go to an academic decathlon practice.

When she finally smiled down at Rickon, he argued that he was too old for Halloween and was going to his friend’s house.

Keeping a smile on her face though it felt so very empty, Sansa tried to persuade her youngest brother that he and his friends could come over instead and they could all carve pumpkins together.

Arya made her way down the staircase, rolling her eyes at the scene, “Just let it go, Sansa. No one cares about your pumpkins.”

Sansa feels as if she’s been given a physical blow, but mages to nod, trying to hold back tears.

She knows that’s just how Arya is—once just your average sisterly rivalry, there relationship had only grown more tense and biting. (She wasn’t the best big sister growing up, but god she’s trying so hard now.) 

Their Nanny, Old Nan, just gives Sansa a sad smile and pats her cheek, offering to make her a mug of hot chocolate (because no one ever remembers she gave up dairy two years ago.) 

So Sansa leaves the house, her heart breaking a little bit more. Her family was falling apart and no matter how hard she tries she can’t put together the pieces and it was all her fault.

Because her father was dead because of her.

_He died on his way from the airport. If I didn’t call asking for help… or if I didn’t date that asshole Baratheon boy… wasn’t seduced by his stupid fucking fake charm…. wasn’t such a child when Joffrey scared me that night… so much that dad needed to come pick me up._

She remembered how on that last phone call her father had promised her one day she would find someone brave and gentle and strong. But that felt like a lifetime ago.

Because ever since now mother is on the verge of a mental breakdown, and her older brother’s a workaholic, and Arya is cruel, and her sweet brother Bran has become unrecognizably cold, and Rickon who would always give her tight body crushing hugs only runs away from her.

And Sansa can’t fix it and she can’t force pumpkins down their throat no matter how hard she tries.

She didn’t want to go back to her dorm with all her supplies defeated, to be judged by her roommates who were annoyed the transfer girl would rather go home than take up their invite to go out. 

So instead she pulls up to Jon’s apartment. He gave her a key, and he and his roommate Sam should be at some party or something so she can just hack a pumpkin in his living room.

She walks in, first dropping off the fresh vegetables she picked up for him in the fridge. (God that boy would go weeks without lettuce or a piece of broccoli if he could.) 

Then she spreads newspapers on their table for her carving station. While Jon’s apartment is untidy because you know, boys, it’s definitely not unclean. It’s actually pretty cozy. 

She knows she’s taking advantage of the kindness of a boy she barely acknowledged growing up, but she doesn’t know where to go. 

And she just wants to stab her pumpkins.

It’s actually pretty cathartic, stabbing a pumpkin.

An hour later, she hears the door open—looking up to see Jon Snow walk in. His thick dark curls are mussed from the day, a heavy book bag hanging off a shoulder.

He doesn’t seem surprised that she’s in his apartment committing sever pumpkin-cide.

“Arya called and said you might be here.” His voice is gentle and she hates that he probably feels sorry for her. She hates feeling like this. 

She shrugs, continuing to whack at her pumpkin

Sansa’s quite artistic, very handy at painting and knitting and most Pinterest-y crafts.  

She really should be better at carving a fucking pumpkin. But she really isn’t.

“I brought you something,” he says coming to sit next to her, crossed legged on the floor. “A treat. You know, for Halloween.”

He hands her the Best Dessert in The World, a slice of vegan lemon cake. (Because Jon always remembers she gave up dairy two years ago.)

She tells him thanks, but continues to whack away at her sad pumpkin.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No, no she doesn’t. But it’s so very hard to keep inside right this moment. 

“They blame me.” She feels her face crumple as a sob escapes her followed by another.

“Sansa, no one blames you. They love you and your father loved you. It was an accident. You know this.”

He wraps his arm around her, and places a firm kiss to her forehead.

“No, they do. _They do and they should_.”  She talks to a therapist but that reality was always there and she’s afraid it always will be because it’s _true_. 

“No one blames you. I was there the night you called. Robb and Arya both threw fits because they wanted to come too. Were ready to kill your boyfriend themselves. How could they blame you?”

“Jon…” she whispers. “They’re mad and I can’t do anything right. I can’t fix it.”

“No, just the other day Robb was telling me how thoughtful you were to send him freshly baked cookies at work. That you cared enough to, even during your midterms. How happy it made him.”

She gives a small nod in response and he continues.

“And Arya wouldn’t have gone to Homecoming if you hadn’t found her that perfect dress.”

“I bet Gendry thought she looked beautiful,” she sighs.

“I bet he did. And I wouldn’t take Bran personally. He’s fourteen and there’s this cute girl named Meera on the decathlon team.”

She should be miffed that Jon Snow knows more about her siblings lives than she does, but she can’t find it in herself to be.

She only burrows closer to him and feels his cozy sweater against her cheek, relishing the warmth of his body.

He lost his mother when he was so very young, and she feels guilty at taking so much comfort from him when she still has so much. But he doesn’t seem to mind, and she’s very grateful.

“You’re the sweetest girl I know. No one else has ever made sure I eat my vegetables,” he teases before continuing. “And you’re adored, Sansa Stark. You don’t need to fix this. It’s just going to take time.”

There’s a comfort in his words, but she still feels like whining. Just a bit more. It feels too good, being held by him.  

“It’s not even cold,” she grumbles.

“You’re going to be so mad when winter comes and you have to trudge to class in knee-deep snow,” he says, his hand drawing little comforting circles on her shoulder.

“But I look cuter when it’s cold,” she managed to sniff. 

“Sansa Stark, you always look cute and you know it.”  

Who Jon was… was _complicated_. He was boy who used to jump out dressed as a ghost to scare her, the sullen teen who grudgingly let her paint his nails, the boy who held her as she sobbed after her father funeral.

Jon was… he was… he was _Jon_ and he was _hers_. He had always been there and she never wanted him not to be. He was brave and gentle and strong. It was complicated, _but also so very simple_.

“You think I’m cute?” She shouldn’t ask, it was indulgent and silly and he probably just thinks of her as some stupid kid sister or something and she’s making a fool out of herself but she really can’t help it.

He breathes deeply, shakes his head slightly before letting out a choked laugh.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

It’s so earnest and god she’s turning red and in her periphery she sees that his cheeks are also sporting a nice healthy blush as well.

And she can’t help but feel like she’s glowing a bit inside. But he seems so uncomfortable now so she decides to take him out of his misery.

She is sweet after all.

“And what about my pumpkin?” she asks, lifting it up and turning side to side, modeling it for him

He smiles, _one of those Jon smiles_ , rolling up his sleeves.

“Your pumpkin, on the other hand, looks a bit sad. Hand me a cutter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for jonxsansafanfiction Day 3 - Pumpkins! 
> 
> Let's be friends on tumblr! I'm it-was-so-human


End file.
